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Last night, with the light quickly dimming, Scott, Sica, and I went to what is fondly known as "cinderella park." Scott wanted to play the guitar on the grass, I brought my paints and an old painting that needed something new, and Sica used her phone while climbing trees to send her eight thousand and eighty-first text message since getting her new phone. Okay, so it was only in the 650s, but it's still only 82% full.
It was nice, being outside, listening to Scott on the guitar, hearing Sica yell from a tree somewhere every now and then ("SMOKER!" when Scott swallowed a bug), and pulling bugs out of the paint. By the end, I didn't know what colors were ending up where, but I like it better than what was on the canvas before. Dad calls it "The Purple Wave":
It was nice, being outside, listening to Scott on the guitar, hearing Sica yell from a tree somewhere every now and then ("SMOKER!" when Scott swallowed a bug), and pulling bugs out of the paint. By the end, I didn't know what colors were ending up where, but I like it better than what was on the canvas before. Dad calls it "The Purple Wave":
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